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Bodega Bay
by Nick Chapter
Nineteen

"You stay where you're at!" George snapped tersely at Mark as he
walked toward Justin and me. We knew we were standing in the middle of a path
between two men who obviously knew each other. We also knew we were standing in
the middle of a path between two men who were angry with each other. My dad
seemed to get over his initial shock, and the look of discomfort on his face
was replaced by one of disgust. I saw his fists tighten up, and I knew there
was going to be trouble.
Mark ignored George's command and continued until he was standing almost
protectively in front of Justin and I, perhaps trying to protect us from
whatever was about to go down. He had a bewildered look on his face, but he
appeared to be in enough control of himself to know what he needed to do.
Luckily, Patricia defused the situation before it escalated in the aisle.
"Honey, come this way," she said matter of factly as she hooked
George's arm and pulled him back. Steele looked uneasy too, and as confused as
I was. I looked at Justin for a moment, studying his face and trying to
decipher what was going through his mind. Mark looked up at Justin, making eye
contact, and as if they were having a silent conversation, they both seemed to
understand what was going on.
I looked up at my dad, who was returning George's fierce look, and it started
to dawn on me what I was dealing with. When George spoke, he confirmed my
suspicions.
"You're fucking amazing," he spat. "One family wasn't enough,
was it? You had to ruin his life too."
By the way George was pointing and motioning, I knew he was talking about me.
"Me?" my dad asked incredulously, his body language accentuating his
every word. "You had a family. Remember? You're the one that walked
out!"
"Guys this isn't the place for this," Patricia said in a short tone.
She was right, too. There was a small crowd of shoppers forming, and as if that
weren't bad enough, Steele was starting to cry. Justin and Mark led me away
from my dad, over to Steele. Watching Steele move instinctively to Mark for
comfort was odd. Mark knelt down and wrapped his arms around him, whispering
something in his ear and stroking his head lightly as Patricia looked down with
a concerned expression.
"You're right," my dad said nastily. "We can do this outside if
you want, George."
With that, my dad extended his arm toward the front of the store, as if to
invite George to follow him to the parking lot.
"No," Patricia said with a tone of finality. "You have a lot of
nerve, judging my husband. You could learn a thing or two from him about how to
be a dad."
"Oh yeah," my dad snapped back. "Well, maybe he can share those
things with the boy he hasn't seen in four years. You know, he still has the
same number, George."
"You're one to talk, asshole," George almost shouted. "My wife
picked your son up on the side of the freeway! You didn't even care what
happened to him!"
"Go fuck yourself!" my dad hollered at the top of his lungs, pointing
threateningly at George.
"Kevin slept on my couch!" George shouted back, his eye's on fire as he shook Patricia off of him.
"Both of you need to leave," came a voice out of nowhere. A burly
man, standing about six inches taller than both my dad and George, had issued
the command. He was wearing a tag that said Store Manager on his shirt, and he
looked like he meant business. "I'm about to call the police. Just
leave."
I looked desperately at Mark and Steele, trying to figure out what was going
on. Bits and pieces of it were clear to me, but the rest was a blur. From
everything I gathered, George was Mark's dad. He was also Steele's dad. What I
was sure I gathered from the exchange in Railey's was that he was also somehow
connected to my stepbrother. I just couldn't do the math. Steele was older than
my stepbrother by a year. It didn't make any sense to me that he was his real
dad. There had to be some other explanation.
There was an awkward air in the motor home that made the silence deafening as
we drove home to Pittsburg. We never got to buy our Tempura, so when we got
home, my grandma went to the store while my dad ranted and raved about George
and Patricia to my grandpa. In the middle of his rant, Justin and I got on our
bikes and rode back to his house, where he promptly told his mom and dad
everything that happened.
They both looked shocked and disgusted at the same time. I found out that
neither one of them liked George for whatever reason, and as we were talking to
Justin's mom, his brother walked in with his cell phone to his ear looking
troubled.
"Holy crap!" he exclaimed as he hung up. "Are you guys okay?"
With that, the three of us retreated to his room, where he rolled a joint and
talked to me while he let it dry.
"Mark's dad is a real asshole," he said. "He walked out on him
and his mom and sister when Mark was little. Come to find out he had another
family that no one knew about. Of course, when that fell apart, he found
someone with money and a kid and remarried again."
"Do you mean Steele isn't really his?" I asked, and Justin sighed
loudly as he nodded. "That means my stepbrother.."
"That's exactly what it means," Justin cut me off.
"What the fuck?" I asked quietly, not really believing my ears.
"You mean to tell me that this whole time my dad's been raising George's
son?"
I never got my answer. The sound of the doorbell was followed by my dad's voice
in the living room. Justin's brother put our joint in an Altoid's
tin and slid it into his pocket, then we followed him to the living room.
"You should have kicked his fucking ass," Justin's brother said
un-apologetically as my dad talked about what went down, earning him an
admonishing look from his mom.
"We're not exactly fond of George," she explained uneasily. "He
walked out on Mark and his mom and sister without warning. When it all came
out, he had a fiancÚ and a baby."
My dad cleared his throat and straightened up, looking a little uncomfortable
but subdued at the same time. Justin's parents gave him a small understanding
nod.
"There was a time when George and I were best friends," Justin's dad
revealed. "Hell, we were next door neighbors for years. When he opened his
art gallery in San Francisco, I was the one who got the financing together for
him. But all of the the sudden he changed. Mark
really suffered for it, too."
"That's putting it mildly," Justin's brother interjected. "When
Mark needed his dad the most, he couldn't be bothered."
"I tried to be there for Mark," Justin's dad said sadly. "But it
wasn't the same for him, you know? He needed his dad, not his neighbor."
As I sat there calculating what was being said, my mind wandered. The day
George and Patricia helped me when no one else did kept running back in my
mind, and I had a hard time reconciling what my dad and Justin's family were
saying.
My little step brother always talked about his other dad. I always shrugged it
off because it seemed like a taboo subject. The vibes I always picked up on
when he was brought up told me not to press the issue. How could I have known
that the stars would align one day and bring him into my own life in such a
major way. He was so gentle with me, even in his panicked state the morning I
woke up on his couch. There was no trace of the monster they were speaking of
in my presence. I wonder what Mark thought. Even more, I was taken back by the irony of it all.
How could I have known that day what I was embarking on? I was just trying to
get away from my troubles. I got on my bike and rode off, looking for a way to
escape. Both times.
Leaving Modesto was hard, and almost fateful. What would have happened if I had
left a few minutes later? Would I have missed Patricia? Would I have ended up
in Concord? I had no idea, but I felt like fate had brought her to me.
Especially after having sat in Justin's living room, listening to everything
unfold.
Of course, my dad was leaving out key details, as always. He conveniently
forgot to mention to them that Patricia was the one who found me on the freeway
when he turned me away. He forgot to tell them that I begged him for help and
he told me no. That he was planning to let Billy molest me in exchange for
having to be there for me. That he was no better than George.
Justin knew, though. He knew, and so did Mark.
Mark and Justin, my two problems. My boyfriend and my best friend. Justin, the
person I was starting to have serious feelings for. Mark, my boyfriend and my
brother's brother.
Justin's brother's cell phone rang, snapping me out of my day dream. It was
Mark. I knew it from the ring tone, but I would have known anyway because there
was no one else he would have had to console the way he was consoling Mark at the
moment.
"He's coming over," he announced when he got off the phone, but it
was obvious that he was addressing my dad. "He feels really embarrassed,
though. He thinks you're going to be mad at him."
"That's not true at all," my dad said softly, looking a little
troubled. "I'll have a talk with him when he get's
here. I don't want him to think that at all."
I learned a lot while I sat there waiting for Mark to show up and listening to
the adults talk. George had been with my stepmom for years while he was still
at home raising Mark and his sister with their mom. There was hardly any
indication, according to Justin's parents, that anything was wrong. When the
facts were laid out during the divorce, though, it all came to the surface. The
hardest thing for me to hear was the way George had walked out on his family.
Justin's brother was there when it happened, and hearing him regale the events
of that day made me want to cry for Mark.
"We had just gone to Sun Valley Mall to pick out a Christmas tree,"
he said. "We were having such a good time. We got home and unloaded it,
then George set it up in the tree stand and went out to the garage to get the
ornaments out. We waited and waited, and finally, we went out to see what was
going on. His car was gone, so Mark tried to call him on his cell. It went
straight to his voice mail, which was weird.
"So we went in and told his mom," he continued. "She got a real
nervous look on her face and went upstairs. We followed her to their room and
watched her open all of his dresser drawers and the closet. All his stuff was
just gone, and she broke down on the spot. That was about three weeks before
Christmas, and the Holiday was ruined for all three of them. In a way, it was
ruined for me too."
With that, Justin's mom grabbed a tissue and dabbed her eyes as my dad sat
silent with a solemn look on his face. I wondered to myself how much of that
story he already knew and how much he was hearing for the first time. I also
wondered how my stepmom could possibly be so evil as to let George leave his
family at Christmas time for her. Of course, I was also having issues with
George. I didn't understand how he could do something so awful, and even more,
how Patricia was able to stay with him knowing about his past.
"The only part I knew was the fact that he had walked out on my wife and
son," my dad said bitterly. "She said they were planning to marry and
one day he told her he never wanted to see her again."
That was an event I could easily picture in my head. My stepmom was one of the
most unreasonable people I knew, and I imagined in my head the life Mark would
have had if she had been his stepmom instead of mine. He probably would have faired a lot better than me because his mom seemed so
stable, but he would have still had to deal with her anger and her
vindictiveness, which might have been what drove George away in the first
place.
When Mark arrived he looked pensive to say the least. I had to fight my urge to
go to him and give him the long hug and the deep kiss I knew he needed. Justin's
mom wrapped him in an embrace and told him how loved he was in her home, that
he was a part of their family and that he better not forget it. Mark smiled
warmly at her and sat between her and Justin's dad, who put his arm over Mark's
shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze, kneading his shoulder in a
supportive gesture.
I was relieved when the subject of George was dropped, and instead, the focus
moved to the fact that my dad had nothing against Mark at all. In fact, my dad
stressed to him that he had nothing but admiration for him and called him a
"fine young man." That seemed to help Mark relax, and the distressed
look on his face was replaced by one of confidence by the time Justin's brother
announced that the four of us were going to drive to Buchanan Park to throw the
football around.
The car was silent as we drove slowly through the neighborhood, I reached for
Mark's hand, unsure if he was willing to let me have it. There was an awkward
air between us, and it was worrying me. When his fingers laced with mine, a
sense of relief swept over me like a cool refreshing breeze. Out of the back
seat, the pungent smell of burning green bud filled the air and the sound of
Justin's coughing could be heard. I took the initiative once again, lifting
Mark's hand to my face and rubbing my left cheek against the back of it before
I pressed my lips against his knuckles.
"I love you," I confessed, looking to him for a response. He turned
and smiled at me sweetly, then he made my day by saying, "I love you too,
Kevin. Nothing's going to change between us, I promise."
When the joint was finished, we drove to the park and got out, letting the cold
October air bite our noses as we all ran to the grassy area. Mark ran out for a
pass, catching it easily, then tossing it to Justin, who seemed to know that we
needed our privacy. He ran out long and tossed it to his brother, then the two
of them moved further away from Mark and I. There was a steep incline at the
edge of the park that Justin and I loved to roll down after school sometimes.
There was a sidewalk at the top that circled the park, and sometimes after
school the two of us would walk to the park and race, seeing who could roll all
the way down the fastest.
Mark and I walked up the steep incline, almost to the sidewalk but not quite,
and took a seat on the soft grass to talk. I felt an overwhelming urge to
apologize to him for everything, but he assured me that I had nothing to be
sorry for.
"Kevin, it wasn't you that walked out on my family," he said in a
soft voice. "It was my dad. You're dad told the truth today, Kevin. My dad
basically abandoned mom and my sister and I, then he did it again with my
brother."
I had butterflies in my stomach as he uttered those words. I had been so
accustomed to him being my brother, and now my boyfriend was sitting in my
presence, calling him his brother.
"Does that mean we're related?" I asked worriedly, inciting a chuckle
from my boyfriend as he slowly shook his head no.
"I guess that means we both have a reason to be mad," he said.
"I mean, you know, her.."
"She's a bitch," I muttered bitterly.
"I know she is," Mark said. "Why do you think my dad left her?
She cheated on him, you know."
"With my dad?" I asked, again feeling awkward because I already knew
the answer.
"I think so, Kevin," he said solemnly. "But that serves him
right. He did it to my mom too."
As I sat there on the grass with my boyfriend, a new reality came over me. He
could relate to my pain on so many levels. Just like Justin, Mark and I had
something in common that bonded us. Perhaps even more so than with Justin, I
thought, because we shared something more than a bond of contempt for my
stepmom and the men who took liberties with her. We shared a little brother.
For the next half hour we talked about him. I told Mark about all of his little
quirks and his funny habits, like not wanting his food to touch on his plate
and wanting to wear his mom's high heels around the house when he was three.
Then we talked about Steele.
George had adopted Steele years ago, and he had no idea that George wasn't his
real dad. Mark was careful not to mention it in front of him, too. Mark's
sister had nothing to do with George, and therefore refused to acknowledge
Steele and Patricia, either. Mark, on the other hand, had no problem with his
stepmom. He told me that she was as loving to him as she was to Steele, and
that she was gracious to Mark's mom, which meant a lot to him. I couldn't even
begin to fathom that kind of civility in a family, especially after what George
did, but when I considered Patricia and the person I knew her to be, I found it
easier to swallow.
When we were finished talking, I looked around carefully. No one was watching,
so I leaned forward and stole a sweet tasting kiss from my boyfriend. He
grinned knowingly at me, then he gave me a playful shove on the shoulder. I let
my body fall flat, then I sat up and challenged him.
"I'll beat you to the bottom," I said as I
laid back down and started my decent to the bottom of the hill.
We reached the bottom at about the same time, laughing as we sat up. I was a
little dizzy when I stood up but Mark was there to help steady me. We brushed
the grass off each other, then we joined Justin and his brother on the other
side of the playground.
___________________________________________________________________________

"Do you have to leave already?" Justin asked, sounding disappointed
as I slid Mark's flannel on in his garage and prepared to get on my bike to
ride home.
"It's almost seven," I said, mindful of my curfew. "Maybe I can
stay a little longer."
Mark had already left for the night, and Justin's brother was inside finishing
his homework. His parents were in the kitchen, cleaning up after the lasagna
dinner we had all enjoyed. Instead of climbing on my bike, I followed Justin to
the Camaro, where he was climbing into the driver's seat. I got in on the other
side and closed the door.
"Do you think you can spend the night this week?" he asked.
"Maybe on Tuesday? My mom and dad have to go to Walnut Creek that night
and they'll be late. We'll have fun."
"I'll ask," I said, feeling almost excited about the prospect of
spending a weeknight at Justin's house. It was unheard of to me, and I half
expected my dad to tell me no, but I at least had to try.
When I wasn't paying attention, I felt the warmth of Justin's hand on my wrist,
prompting me to smile at him warmly. I looked down at his hand, then back at
him one more time before I lifted my arm and pulled it back so that his hand
met mine. I heard him whimper a little when I grabbed his hand and looked
deeply into his captivating eyes, wanting to act on the urge I had to climb
over to his side of the car and attack his body.
The sounds of our breathing filled the otherwise silent car, and as if gravity
was having its way with us, our faces drifted closer and closer until our lips
touched. I puckered my tingling lips and pressed as softly as I could, then I
parted them and prepared to let Justin make a move.
The heat of his tongue in my mouth made my eyes close for a moment, and the
moment our tongues touched, my head spun out of control. His kiss was
delicious, and I was delirious with passion as it intensified. I was so
delirious, in fact, that I almost didn't hear the sound of his moms voice as
she called out Justin's name as she knocked on the driver side window.

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